


Envy, Sword, Lion

by maebyrutherford (maeberutherford)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Jealousy, Meta, Metafiction, Romance Novel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:19:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4169175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maeberutherford/pseuds/maebyrutherford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen doesn't really share the others' excitement over Varric's new romance novel.<br/>Basically fan fiction about fan fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Envy, Sword, Lion

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw a post on tumblr with [this prompt generator](http://writingexercises.co.uk/take-three-nouns.php), which is not Dragon Age related. I clicked it just for kicks, and I swear to the Maker, the first result I got was "Envy, Sword, Lion" (I have the image as proof!).
> 
> I couldn’t really pass that up, so I kicked this out in about an hour. Please forgive any mistakes!

Cullen sauntered into the tavern; not looking for ale or wine, but for a refreshing glass of raspberry juice. It was a rare treat they were able to procure through their connections, and had proved to be just the thing to quench his thirst after a long morning of shouting and running drills.

He brought the goblet to his lips and tasted the cool, refreshing nectar, and almost choked on it when he heard the screams coming from upstairs. Women’s screams, at least two, high pitched. Instinctively he slammed the mug down and bolted up the stairs, vaguely wondering why nobody else was reacting. Cabot was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he only saw a couple of men chatting in a corner. More distressed noises were coming from Sera’s room. He trotted to the door and flung it open, his heart hammering in his chest.

Ingrid and Sera were intensely scouring a book, both jumping in surprise when they saw him, the tome falling to the floor.

“What in Andraste’s name is going on up here?” Cullen implored, “It sounded as if you were being slain! You’re lucky I didn’t pull my sword!”

Ingrid snatched the book off of the floor and shoved it underneath a cushion. “It’s, um, nothing, just, you know, girl talk. Right, Sera?”

Sera rolled her eyes. “Just  _tell_  him, it’s all perfectly  _normal_ , you know.”

Ingrid’s eyes narrowed at Sera.

Cullen nodded toward the cushion. “Tell me what? What are you hiding there?”

“If you’re embarrassed, I’ll tell him! Cos I don’t mind.”

“Sera, not now!” Ingrid hissed.

“He won’t  _care_. It’s all healthy, yeah? Anyway, he’s one of the good ones. All secure in himself and all that.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I would appreciate if you would stop talking like I’m not here.”

“Oh, Maker,” Ingrid groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

Sera gave out a triumphant laugh, dragging Cullen to the window and plopping him down on the cushions with a loud  _floof_. “Okay, so it’s like this. Varric wrote this story about a nice on the eyes, big and shiny Orlesian knight that like, comes to Skyhold to help us, right? He’s really good looking, sex on a horse, basically, all the women go crazy and they all want to bang him. But,” She sat up on her knees in excitement, “But he falls for the Inquisitor! Romantic and shit, but with a twist ending. Oh, almost forgot – they call him the Lion of Skyhold, cos he’s got this crazy Lion helmet, and he’s got long blonde hair, and you know, fierce and Orlais and things.”

“It’s just a silly story,” Ingrid cut in waving her hand in dismissal, yet her face was blushed from her cheeks down to her neck. “We were just having a laugh over how ridiculous it is.”

“Are you daft? What was all that about having to change your breeches, then?”

“SERA!”

“Wot, it’s the truth!”

Ingrid buried her face again in her hands. “I think I want to die, now.”

“Wait a minute,” Cullen wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any of this, “Is this one of those tawdry tales I keep hearing about?”

“Yes, but better, because it has a good story all around it, see? Not just bang bang they mash their bits, the end. And the guy is real good, proper warrior and all that. Dwarf’s best work, if you ask me.” Sera elbowed Cullen. “I kinda want to do the guy and I don’t go that way, know what I mean? Might switch you too, if you read it. Wanna know how it eeeends?” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

“All right, I think I’ve heard enough. I’ll leave you two to…whatever this is.” Cullen rose to leave.

“Wait – you gotta see the drawing!” Sera dove and snatched the book from underneath the cushion before Ingrid could stop her.

She flipped to a page and thrust it at Cullen. It was a detailed depiction of a tall, shirtless man in tight trousers, very muscular and quite handsome with a mane of long flowing hair, brandishing the most ridiculously large one-handed sword he’d ever seen – seriously, the man even with those brawny arms would barely be able to lift such a thing, let alone wield it. It was possible that it was meant to be a two-handed weapon and the artist simply drew the wrong haft.

There was something else he noticed; an almost obscene bulge in his pants that extended down to his mid thigh. Obviously the artist had gone to great pains to render that detail impossible to miss.

Just as he was starting to feel quite a bit inadequate, the book was snatched from his hands.

“I’m so sorry we startled you, guess we got carried away” Ingrid tossed the book aside with a nervous laugh. “We were just having a little fun that was  _supposed_  to be private.” She shot Sera a dirty look.

“Whatever, pissy pants.” Sera stuck out her tongue.

Cullen planted a quick kiss on Ingrid’s forehead. “I’m sorry to have interrupted. I really must be going; see you at dinner?”

“Of course.”

***

Varric was in his usual spot by the hearth in the main hall, scribbling furiously onto some parchment. Cullen wondered bitterly if it was the next installment of the Lion of Skyhold story.

“Hey there, Curly.” Varric greeted him without looking up.

“How did you-”

“You have a very distinctive gait. Some might call it a swagger. Can see it from the corner of my eye. You know me, I’m very observant.” He housed his quill and stood up. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I, um,” he cleared his throat.  _Why am I here, exactly?_  he thought. “I was wondering about the artist you commissioned for your latest novel. They are quite talented.”

Varric smiled skeptically. “Oh, you saw that, eh? Yes, they do good work. An up-and-coming artist in Val Royeaux, very reasonable rates. So tell me Curly, did you…read the book? Didn’t realize that was your thing.”

“No, Sera gave me a synopsis. She seems to like it. I heard the Inquisitor is featured?”

Varric raised his hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not publishing that one, it’s just for fun. Call it a warm-up, might use that character and artwork for a real novel. Change the characters names, setting, of course. But Ingrid is so compelling, I just had to write her – with her permission, of course. She might just be my muse.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, she has that effect on people. So this knight, Sera says he has a lion’s helm?”

“Yeah, based on your old one. Whatever happened to it, by the way? I always liked it; had real character.” Varric chuckled. “Remember when I used to call you the Lion of the Inquisition, before we even found the Herald? Then we all realized it didn’t make any sense, seeing as how you’re Fereldan. It was too good to not use it in a story, though. Powerful symbolism.”

“I see.” Cullen stared at the fire and crossed his arms, his chin held high.

“Curly, is something wrong? Look it’s just a story.” Varric laughed. “Surely you’re not jealous of a fictional character, are you?”

Cullen looked around to make sure nobody was close enough to eavesdrop, and leaned in, speaking just above a whisper. “It’s just that I rather  _liked_  that title, however unspoken. And then I catch Ingrid squealing and swooning like a teenage girl over this  _Lion_ , who wields an impossibly large sword and who also has another impossibly large endowment that no man I know could ever compare with!”

A couple of nobles tittered nearby, and he realized he was now speaking at full volume.

Varric had the decency to try and suppress his amusement. “Cullen, I had no idea you actually liked that nickname. And it’s a fantasy, an escape, readers love exaggerations; that’s what sells these romance novels. They don’t expect that in real life; you know that, right?”

“I sincerely hope not,” Cullen huffed, “otherwise we’ll all end up alone.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll ditch the lion thing in the next piece. I’ll come up with something else. All right?”

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble…I don’t want to impose.” Cullen was ashamed to look him in the eye, wondering just who this man was standing in his shoes, yet he felt vindicated.

“Consider it done. And Curly,” Varric moved closer, lowering his voice, “have you noticed anything…different about Ingrid in the last few days? In the, ah…bedroom?”

“What? I, well,” Cullen fumbled, recalling the last few nights as especially active, but somehow not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “I really don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he snapped.

Varric nodded. “I’ll take that as a yes. These stories, they can be powerful aphrodisiacs. You should be thanking me.” He patted Cullen on the arm and returned to his seat, a smug grin on his face.

As Cullen left to attend to his duties, he realized there wasn’t any reason why he couldn’t be called the Lion of Skyhold; at least behind closed doors. He had to remind himself to wipe the smile off his face before he addressed his recruits.


End file.
